The Ashen Path was silence made solid.
No wind stirred. No bird called. Even the cinders that drifted through the void made no sound as they fell. Irisen walked across a narrow bridge of black stone, suspended above an endless sea of glowing mist. Behind him, the gate had vanished—consumed by fire the moment he stepped through.
Each footstep echoed in the emptiness.
He moved carefully, eyes drawn to the floating isles ahead—shards of forgotten worlds, some bearing crumbling temples, others burning endlessly with blue flame. He could feel his spark humming, responding to the energy that laced the air. It wasn't magic. It was older.
It was intent.
The Path itself tested those who dared walk it.
The first trial came as a whisper.
"Do you burn for yourself, or for others?"
The voice was not his own. It came from the stone beneath his feet.
Suddenly, the bridge split apart.
Irisen leapt, barely grabbing the edge of a jagged platform. The mist below pulsed and reached for him with tendrils of black smoke. He climbed up, gasping, and found himself standing in a circular arena of scorched obsidian. Symbols of fire and blood glowed at its edges.
Across from him stood a figure.
It wore his face.
But its eyes were dead, skin pale as ash, and its flame cold—a ghost of what it should be. The Hollow Flame.
It drew a blade of flickering shadow and pointed it at him.
"You doubt," it said in his voice. "You hesitate. And so your fire weakens."
Irisen raised his dagger, heart pounding.
"This is a trial, then? A test?"
"This is truth," the Hollow Flame answered. "You are not worthy of the spark."
Then it attacked.
They clashed beneath a sky of ember.
The Hollow Flame moved faster than any normal opponent. Each swing of its blade left behind trails of frostfire, chilling the air. Irisen ducked, rolled, and struck back—but his dagger barely left a mark.
Pain flared as a cut opened along his side. He dropped to one knee, gasping, blood steaming against the hot stone.
"You fight like a boy," the Hollow sneered. "Not like a vessel."
Irisen gritted his teeth. He felt his fire stirring, but it was tangled in fear. In doubt.
He remembered Kael's words:A fire caged too long forgets how to warm. Or how to destroy.
He closed his eyes. Not control, Kael had said. Acceptance.
He stopped fighting the flame.
He opened to it.
And the world burned.
When Irisen rose, the Hollow staggered.
His body glowed faintly, as if lit from within. Heat rolled off his skin, but it was calm—centered. His dagger pulsed with fire, reshaped not by force, but by will.
"You are not me," Irisen said.
"No," the Hollow whispered. "I am what you fear becoming."
Irisen lunged.
The blade struck true—not with rage, but understanding.
The Hollow Flame shattered into cinders.
And the trial ended.
The Path reformed, extending ahead.
But now, Irisen was not alone.
A figure stepped from the mist. Clad in ironwood armor, cloak tattered and eyes veiled by a golden mask, they moved with grace—and wariness.
"I saw the trial," the stranger said, voice androgynous, soft and sharp at once. "Not many pass without losing something."
Irisen eyed them. "Who are you?"
The figure bowed slightly. "Call me Kareth. I serve no throne, only the Path. And I know where it leads."
"You've walked it before?"
"No. But I was born in its shadow."
Kareth turned, pointing to a distant island—a floating ruin that bled red smoke into the sky. "That is your next step. The Cradle of Echoes. A place where voices linger, and the past walks."
"Why help me?"
Kareth was silent for a long time.
"Because the Ashen Lords fear you. And anything they fear… I would see thrive."
They offered a hand.
Irisen took it.
And together, they walked deeper into the dying starscape.
High above, in a fortress of glass and ruin, one of the Ashen Lords stood before a pool of obsidian fire.
He had no face—only a skull of charred gold and a voice like collapsing towers.
"He awakens," the Lord rasped.
From the flames, another voice answered.
"Then send the Reclaimed."
And deep within the darkness, something ancient stirred—bound in iron, blindfolded in light, and yearning for flame.